"Or the hereafter," added Kimberly.
Nelson grunted. "I'm afraid he doesn't find much sympathy here on that subject," he observed, looking from one to another.
"Don't be mistaken, Nelson," said Kimberly, "I think about it, and Francis will tell you so. I have already made tentative arrangements with him on that score. Francis is to play Lazarus to my Dives. When I am in hell I am to have my cup of cold water from him. And remember, Francis, if you love me, the conditions. Don't forget the conditions; they are the essence of the contract. I am to have the water one drop at a time. Don't forget that; one drop at a time. Eternity is a long, long while."
Francis, ill at ease, took a pinch of snuff to compose himself.
"Your rôle doesn't seem altogether to your liking, Francis," suggested Imogene.
"His rôle! Why, it's paradise itself compared to mine," urged Kimberly.
Brother Francis drew his handkerchief and wiped his nose very simply. "I pray, Robert," he said, "that you may never be in hell."
"But keep me in your eye, Francis. Don't relax your efforts. A sugar man is liable to stumble and fall in while your back is turned."
"We must get started for the lake," announced Imogene. "Brother Francis, we are all going down to see The Towers from the water. Will you come?"
Francis excused himself, and his companions joined the other guests who were gathering at the water. Oarsmen were waiting with barges and fires burned from the pillars of the esplanade. As the boats left the shore, music came across the water. Alice, with Kimberly, caught a glimpse of her husband in a passing boat. "Having a good time?" he cried. For answer she waved her hand.